


Dance of the Necrolancer

by battleshidge (Amiria_Raven)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura and Shiro are grad students, College AU, Drinking, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Halloween House Party, I don't know how to tag this okay, M/M, Murder Mystery Game - Coran Style, assume they're all legal here, klance, liquid courage, lowkey shallura, they're housemates, they're so dumb and oblivious and Liquid Courage helps, whatever legal may be where you are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 09:34:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8440507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amiria_Raven/pseuds/battleshidge
Summary: The light was playing tricks on him, because Lance thought there was a red flush across the back of Keith’s neck. That was preposterous, so he shook himself and agreed, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Frankenmullet. Let’s just listen for our cards.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I WROTE THIS IN LIKE FIVE HOURS so I apologize if it seems a little rushed. I tried. I've had the idea for like, a week, but no time to write and then it was Halloween and I wanted to finish it...and this happened.
> 
> I finished it with about 6 minutes to spare on Halloween in my time zone (CST), but it's being posted a bit after midnight because edits and creating the post and all that but IT WAS FINISHED ON HALLOWEEN OKAY.
> 
> NOTE: the title doesn't really come into play in the story, but...it was the working title and I couldn't NOT use it.
> 
> More on the inspiration at the end!

 

“C’mon, Allura!” Lance tossed her a roguish wink, “It’s perfect! Having a house party on Halloween is like, the epitome of college life!”

“I’m not so sure, Lance,” she flipped her pen in her hand as she turned a page in her text book. “Midterms are the week before Halloween and I’m not sure we’ll have time to plan it between studying for exams. I won’t have any to spare before the tests anyway. My first deadline for my graduate dissertation is during midterms and I have a lot of work before I even want to show my advisor, let alone the committee…”

She trailed off, writing something down in her notes.

“That’s why _I’d_ be in charge of planning everything,” he prodded, reaching across the table and risking her wrath to splay his slender fingers across both pages of her book. Her eyes narrowed and she slowly turned to face him. “Hear me out, Princess. After midterms is the _perfect_ time to have a party! People will need to wind down from all the stress of studying for their exams, and there’s still plenty of time before we really need to hit the books for finals.”

With a sigh, she said, “Lance—”

“—I’m not finished!” he held up his other hand, keeping one on her book. “During midterms, Pidge is going to be taking the set of tests that determine whether she gets into the master’s program for software engineering and communications that she wants. Y’know, the one that Matt’s in? And you know how worked up she is over it already. It would help her relax a little and have fun after they’re done. After she, y’know, sleeps for like, four days solid. So...whaddaya say, ‘Lura?”

Her skeptical expression softened into one that Lance knew meant she was deep in thought, and he counted that as a victory. When she reached to pluck his fingers from her text, he acquiesced and lifted his hand, but he didn’t take his eye’s off of her, and she didn’t move to peruse the book just yet.

“...I’ll speak to Coran,” she finally allowed, and Lance had to try really hard to suppress the whoop of glee that bubbled up in his throat. “It’s no guarantee, of course, but that’s what you needed of me, yes?” her eyes twinkled as she turned her calculating stare on him. He grinned sheepishly at her and she rolled her eyes, leaning back. “I knew it. Well, I’ll talk with him tonight. Now go! I really must finish summarizing this chapter before my next class.”

“Thanks, babe!” he couldn’t help but blow her a kiss as he slipped from the chair, leaving her alone at the library table as he slipped between the shelves. A page that was returning books to their proper homes glared at him as he started whistling, a bounce in his step, but he just winked at him and made his way out as quickly as he could.

And once he was outside, he leapt in the air with a mighty whoop and a fist pump.

“ _Yes_!”

It wasn’t a guarantee, but it was a start. And now he had to tell the news to Pidge and Hunk and hope that Pidge wouldn’t gouge his eyes out for using her stress as an excuse. She was almost as vicious as Allura was, and the last thing he wanted to dampen the joy of his victory was incurring the wrath of Katie “Pidge” Holt.

 

 

“Coran has agreed to allow you to host a party, Lance,” Allura informed him later that night, as they started helping Hunk clean up the kitchen and Pidge, Keith, Shiro, and Coran started setting up their weekly movie night in the other room.

A plate slipped out of Hunk’s soapy hand and made a splash in the sink. Thankfully, it didn’t break, but he turned to look at them where they were gathering the rest of the dishes from the table and asked, “Wait, what?! You managed to convince Allura to ask?!”

“ _Huuuunk_ ,” Lance hissed, and the big guy at least looked a little ashamed of himself.

Allura just laughed, a light, cheerful sound that helped ease the tension in Hunk’s shoulders. She clearly wasn’t upset, so Lance allowed himself a slightly relieved chuckle.

“As I was saying,” she continued, depositing a stack of plates by the sink and moving to dry the dishes that Hunk had already washed, “Coran has agreed. However, he’s also demanded that he have a murder mystery game to start the night off, before things get too wild. He read about them somewhere, or one of his friends mentioned them, and he is too intrigued to be dissuaded.”

“As long as Hunk still gets to make his Halloween punch and his pumpkin muffins, I can work with a little murder mystery,” Lance laughed, adding a spin to his step as he curved around the two at the sink to put a platter next to the dirty dishes. He returned to transferring leftovers from their dishes to the tupperware as he continued, “Allura, have you ever had either? He adds just the right amount of booze to his punch for just a little kick, and his pumpkin muffins are to _die_ for.”

“He agreed to let you plan it,” Allura repeated. “You’re in charge of the drinks, the snacks, and the decorations. He’s planning the murder mystery portion, since he’s so excited about it, but you have pretty much free reign for the rest.”

Lance whooped, dancing around the table as he carried the leftovers to the refrigerator. “That’s what I like to hear!”

“Shut up, Lance!” came a voice from the den.

“Can it, Pidge, I’m celebrating!” Lance nearly roared back, laughing.

Man, this was gonna be good. The murder mystery part might be a little...different. But the rest of it was gonna be great. Lance was _stoked_.

* * *

 

Lance stared at the card that Coran had handed him. There was a pleasant, soft thrum through the house as the sound system that Hunk and Pidge had created filled every room with music. It was turned down for Coran’s murder mystery game, and the crowd of twenty or so people were murmuring among themselves.

“Alright, everyone! Share your roles, and then we can begin!” Coran clapped excitedly.

When it came to Lance, he read out, “‘A necromancer who has raised his dead lover from the grave.’”

He wanted to ask Coran what kind of murder mystery this was—was it based off of some sort of twisted Dungeons & Dragons campaign or something? He fully expected someone to be some kind of wereyalmor or something. Coran’s campaigns were _full_ of imaginary beasts that he insisted were rooted very heavily in old Altean mythology.

Lance wanted to call bullshit, but he let the others continue as he straightened his beard.

At least being dressed as a wizard kind of fit his role, though Gandalf the White was _not_ a necromancer and he felt as though he’d tarnish the good wizard’s name during this game. It felt like such a betrayal of the character that Lance had to try not to think about his costume.

Allura’s turn came, and he watched as she read, “‘A bride on her wedding day. You are dead.’”

After a pause, she tumbled to the floor gracefully, in an uncomfortable-looking heap. She caught Lance’s eye and winked before turning to stare up at the ceiling. She managed to keep her chest eerily still as she slowed her breathing, and for a split second Lance found himself wondering if she’d hit her head when she tumbled. But no, he knew controlled falls, and that had definitely been controlled.

It was kind of funny, how her role matched her costume, too. Coran either planned their roles around what he’d heard of their costumes, or was just really good at guessing.

“‘A priest in charge of the wedding ceremony,’” Hunk read from his card. Strike one for Coran, because Hunk was the Headless Horseman...no, Lance grinned, the Headless _Hunk_ man. Perfect.

Pidge snorted when she read, “‘A ghost that only those raised from the dead can see and speak to. Presence can be felt by relatives and holy men.’”

More party guests, from their classes at the university, read their roles out. There was a baker, a cobbler, a blacksmith, and even a mute. The bride’s groom, who turned out to be Rolo, from Hunk’s mechanical engineering course, immediately dropped to his knees by her ‘corpse’ and pretended to be overwhelmed by his grief. His girlfriend, Nyma, had received the role of his younger sister.

“Um,” Shiro peered at his card curiously and finally announced, “‘A former soldier who returned a year after the war had ended to find his lover had moved on.’”

And lastly, stepping out of the shadows, was Keith. His hair was pulled back, and Hunk and Shiro had managed to make him look kind of like Frankenstein’s monster or something like that. Maybe a zombie? Lance didn’t really care.

Well, he didn’t really care until Keith nearly grumbled, “‘The former lover of the necromancer, raised from the dead.’”

Silence, and then Pidge roared with laughter, collapsing in a heap in her lazily made sheet of a ghost costume. And even Hunk—kind, caring, teddy bear Hunk—laughed, the sound muffled through his mask. Lance’s jaw dropped, indignantly, and he sucked in a breath to protest, but Coran was next to him, slapping a hand over his mouth. That damn mustache of his twitched with what was probably a shit-eating grin, and he announced, “That’s that! No take-backsies on your roles, ladies and gents! And now, the game can commence! When I call out your role, come get your second card!”

“ _Coraaaaan_ ,” Lance whined behind his hand, but Coran just quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Nope, m’boy, there’s no changing it. Now be a good sport and enjoy the game with your lover!”

Lance’s face was _not_ burning, thank you very much, and he didn’t splutter incoherently when Coran flounced away, calling for the baker.

“I don’t like this any better than you,” a voice muttered at his elbow, and Lance yelped, looking to find Keith at his side, his perpetual scowl in place and his arms crossed over his chest. “Let’s just play along with Coran’s game and then we can forget about it sooner.”

The light was playing tricks on him, because Lance thought there was a red flush across the back of Keith’s neck. That was preposterous, so he shook himself and agreed, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Frankenmullet. Let’s just listen for our cards.”

 

 

During the third round, Keith and Lance were in conversation, attempting to console the grieving groom. Well, Lance was. Keith just stood at his side, unsure of how to deal with human emotions, as per his character cards.

He may have been playing the role of a lover raised from the dead, but he had lost the ability of empathy or feeling. He could speak and think, but emotions were beyond him. So he had said his few words—”I’m sorry for your loss”—and stood by the side of his ‘lover’ as he did the real consoling. Rolo, however, at Keith’s attempt, had taken his hand in both of his and had yet to release him.

It was this round that Lance brought a suggestion to the groom that could potentially reveal the murderer.

“Hey, buddy, listen,” Lance told the man, hand on his shoulder gently, “I _am_ a necromancer, you know. If...if you’d like, I can...try to raise her? Sometimes, if it’s done in a timely manner, they still have some of their memories. She could be able to tell us who her murderer was!”

Keith nodded, pretending to be listening. He was a little uncomfortable with Rolo still holding his hand and he wanted to pull away, but Coran would scold him for being out of character again if he did.

It was then that Shiro came over to their small group of three, face pinched and sad. Keith flinched at the expression, even as the grad student offered false condolences to Rolo. Shiro was never that good at acting, so he was pulling on one of his actual memories for reference.

And then he placed a hand on Rolo’s shoulder, the one Lance wasn’t already grasping, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. Lance had already murmured something to Rolo earlier, so Keith didn’t really take it to heart. What he _did_ appreciate, however, was that the other man finally released his hand. He pulled it back as Lance stepped away too, smiling comfortingly at the grieving man. Shiro smiled tightly, squeezed Rolo’s shoulder, and also stepped away.

Turning to Lance, he asked, “So...you think that raising her may help find the murderer?” he asked, eyes shining. “I couldn’t help overhearing.”

“Oh, yeah, I—”

A _thump_ made Lance’s voice hitch—that, or the leg that knocked harshly against his shin—and they turned their attention to Rolo, who had fallen to the ground.

All eyes were on the four of them, and Keith’s mind started churning.

Was _Lance_ the killer? Or _Shiro_? It certainly wasn’t Keith—he would have _known_ by now.

He watched the panic blossom across Lance’s face. It didn’t matter that it was fake panic, because Lance, unlike Shiro, was actually a pretty good actor. It was kind of weird, actually, the way that seeing his expression morph from comforting to terrified in moments made Keith’s stomach lurch with the slightest hint of fear.

Shiro pulled his hand from Lance’s grasp quickly, eyes reflecting the same shock.

“You!” they both said in unison, and then Lance spluttered indignantly. Before he could continue, Coran called for the next round of cards to be given, and they all moved to obey, stepping around the two ‘bodies’ on the floor.

Keith’s card, his fourth, said that he needed to start a conversation with the ghost. He sought Pidge out and met her gaze from across the room. She raised a hand and they made their way to each other, standing where they were supposed to, near the corpse of the bride.

A few other players shifted, strategically casting Keith a few wary, confused looks, and he remembered that only those raised from the dead could see or speak with the ghost.

_Great. Now I’m even more suspicious._

“I can’t wait until this game is over,” Pidge murmured, grinning at him.

“Tell me about it,” he hissed back. “You’re not the one practically dependent on Lance.”

She hummed in agreement and returned, “Don’t pretend you don’t like hanging around him all night, _Frankenmullet_.”

At the nickname Lance had come up with, scathingly, right before the party, and at Pidge’s insinuation, Keith felt himself flushing. He groaned and muttered, “Oh, shut up, Pidge. Don’t you have something we’re supposed to talk about on that card of yours? For the game?”

“You didn’t deny it,” she practically sang, but then asked, “Mr. Zombie, don’t you think it’s strange?”

Ignoring the urge to retort to her victorious teasing, he asked, “Think what’s strange?”

“That three of you were touching the groom, and then he dropped dead. Both of the others leaned near and whispered something. Do you think one of them said a spell of death?”

Keith prepared to reply with a lazy _probably_ , but Lance’s voice filled the room.

“I’ll bring the bride back from the dead! She may be able to give us the answers we need!”

“How do we know you won’t be tricking us?!” Nyma, the groom’s younger sister, cried. There was a sneer under her mask. She’d always been bad at acting, and the way she sneered at Lance, just as she used to, made Keith’s skin crawl.

“It is against the teachings of the Lion Goddess to raise the dead!” Hunk proclaimed dramatically, voice muffled. Pidge snorted at Keith’s side, and he saw Coran shoot her a glare.

“Let him try,” the baker said. “We can decide after whether he’s lying to us.”

“This is such a farce,” Pidge snickered under her breath.

“If Coran hears you, he’ll have you on dishes duty for a month. He knows how much you hate washing them, you know.”

She groaned. “Don’t remind me. It makes my hands all pruny, and I’m always worried to keep working on Rover after I do them because I’m afraid there’s still some water on my hands. I don’t want to fry all of the electrical components, and if I damage some of these parts, Matt and my dad will kill me. One of those wires was half of Dad’s paycheck!”

“Holy crow, Pidge,” Keith deadpanned. “How was it that much?”

“Time for the fifth round!” Coran’s voice interrupted, right between them. Pidge yelped and Keith took a quick step back before his reflexive elbow jab could actually connect with Coran’s ribcage. The mustachioed man gave them both a pointed look and then moved on to the next people after shoving cards in their hands.

And before Keith realized what was happening, Allura was sitting up, making a show out of blinking dazedly.

“Allura,” Lance declared, carefully holding her hand in both of his. “Allura, what do you remember?”

She blinked, looked down at herself and up at the rest of the people in the room, and slowly said, “I don’t remember much…? What’s happened? I remember...Rolo! I remember Rolo! I’m to be wed to him. It’s our wedding day! Please tell me, where is my groom?”

Excitement flooded her features, and she sprang to her feet, repeating her final question.

“Unfortunately, Miss Allura,” Shiro stepped forward to lightly grasp her shoulder, “your groom has had...an accident.”

She blinked up at Shiro and asked slowly, “Don’t I know you, mister?” before blinking and, in a rush, asking, “Wait, what do you mean an _accident_? Where is he?!”

“He’s been murdered!” a member of the crowd called. “You were both murdered by this necromancer!”

Jeers sounded throughout the room, and Lance balked.

“I did no such thing! I bring people _back_. I don’t kill them myself!”

“And it’s time for round six!” Coran interrupted then, bouncing giddily through the room. “At this point of the game, we’ll be switching it up. From here on, I’ll only be passing out a few cards every now and then, but you guys get to choose what happens next!”

* * *

 

“What do you mean, I’ve been hanged?!” Lance screeched indignantly, literally only three minutes after Coran had announced free reign. “I haven’t done anything but raise her from the dead!”

Seriously, were these guys crazy? It was probably Keith, Keith and his stupid mullet, jealous of the people who were still living their original life instead of the cursed sort of half-life he was living. That was _obviously_ the answer. He couldn’t even feel. Not like Allura could, as she curled over Rolo’s ‘corpse’ and heaved huge, realistic sobs.

What _injustice!_

“At the death of the necromancer, both entities that he has raised from the dead have returned to their previous state. That is, Keith and Allura are dead once again,” Coran’s voice happily called, and then he came over to Lance, much more peppy than a man his age usually was, and nudged Lance’s shoulder. “To the ground with you, m’boy, you’re a corpse now.”

Grumbling, Lance crumpled to the ground in an even more dramatic fall than Allura’s at the beginning of the game. So dramatic, in fact, that he didn’t take his usual care and ended up hitting his shoulder at an odd angle. He grit his teeth against the twinge of discomfort and went limp, pretending to be dead. He heard a sigh nearby, one that could only belong to _Keith_ , and he heard the softer _thud_ of Frankenmullet falling to the ground.

He almost jumped in surprise when he felt the air stir near his hand, and he glanced down to find that Keith was a lot closer than he’d thought. In fact, if Lance stretched out his fingers, he could probably run them through his hair—not that he would _ever_ do that, of course!

Lance tried to ignore the snickering ghost next to Keith’s feet.

Allura had slumped over Rolo, giggling and apologizing to him as he grunted from her weight across his middle. Lance snorted at how insincere she sounded, and heard Rolo laugh, good-naturedly, “I deserved that, I guess.”

For copying Lance’s and Hunk’s group project last semester, he deserved a lot _more_ than that. But Allura loved to be about forgiveness, or at least the appearance of it, and so she had personally invited the duo that had nearly gotten Lance and Hunk a zero on a major project as an effort to smooth over the anger.

Keith turned his attention back to the game as he watched Coran slip a card to Shiro, and something clicked.

“Keith,” he whispered after the sudden realization. When Keith didn’t respond, he reached his fingers out to grab just a little bit of his hair and pulled quickly. He heard Keith inhale sharply and utter a curse as he tilted his head to glare at Lance.

“What the _fuck_ , Lance?”

“It’s Shiro!” Lance mouthed it, glancing around at the other players as Shiro started convincing the priest, Hunk, to exorcise any evil spirits nearby.

“No shit,” Keith mouthed back. Lance scowled and gave the lock of hair between his fingers another tug in revenge before Keith twitched his head just out of reach, grumbling about how childish he was.

 

 

Shiro helped Allura up as she dusted her dress off, laughing.

“I’m sorry for, uh, killing you?” he offered.

“I _knew_ it was you!” Lance accused, still sitting on the floor and pointing a finger at Shiro. “How _dare_ you frame me for _your_ crimes, you murderer! I’ll haunt you for the rest of your days!”

“The game’s over, loser,” Keith nudged Lance’s knee with his toe, offering him a hand. Lance stared at it for a few moments, completely surprised by the gesture. “C’mon, get up. I could really use some of Hunk’s nunvill.”

Lance accepted the hand he was offered and groused, “I’m still going to haunt Shiro! And, now that we’re on the subject, I think I’m going to haunt Coran, too. Keith, we were supposed to be lovers. _Lovers_. Can you believe it?”

“Ha,” Keith laughed dryly as Lance coughed awkwardly. It wasn’t to hide a blush—it really wasn’t! He was just parched. “Yeah, I might haunt him for that, too.”

As Keith hauled Lance to his feet, the lanky boy told himself that his eyes were playing tricks on him _again_. It was like a cruel form of trick or treat, where he kept thinking that Keith was blushing when he couldn’t possibly be. It was Keith! _Frankenmullet_! He’d have an easier time getting Pidge to blush, and she never blushed, unless it was about robots.

She was _crazy_.

“Let’s get this party started, man,” Lance nudged Keith once he was stable on his feet, grinning. “Hunk’s nunvill is the best drink I’ve ever had and it’s been _ages_! And his muffins! Hopefully they’ve left us some!”

Keith nodded, and Lance led the way past where Shiro and Allura were laughing together, talking about something. Lance didn’t miss the soft pink across Shiro’s cheeks, and his chemistry alarms started going off in his head.

“Damn,” he muttered, slowing so Keith, who had trailed behind, could reach his side, “I can’t believe I didn’t see _that_ before.”

“See what?” Keith didn’t bother to lower his voice like Lance had, and Lance sighed. So much for subtlety. He glanced over his shoulder quickly to see if they’d heard, and when neither met his gaze he turned back, slipping from the living room into the hall.

“Dude, can’t you see the chemistry back there? I think Allura’s making a move on Shiro!”

And man, Lance didn’t blame her. She was the epitome of beauty—seriously, she ran a fashion and makeup advice blog when she wasn’t drowning in grad school homework and Lance wasn’t at all ashamed to follow for her selfies and the advice itself—and Shiro was the dictionary definition of a man in his prime. He had hit on both of them various times in the past with absolutely zero success, and after seeing them standing next to each other it wasn’t very hard to see why. Even when Shiro was dressed like a fucking _jack-o-lantern_. Seriously, _that’s not even a good costume_!

“Is that what that was?” Keith blinked, glancing back over his shoulder even though they were out of sight.

“Uh, _yeah!_ ” Lance raised an eyebrow. “Dude, are you blind?”

Oh, no. That had to be a flush. Keith glanced away, frowning a little, and Lance felt his neck start to burn. He had to try to compose himself, though, as Keith murmured, “I, uh, guess I’m just not good at that kind of thing.”

“True,” he managed to answer as the kitchen finally opened before them. There were a few people around the punch bowl, but it was still at least half full. “You have some trouble with social cues, man. But hey, I’m your guy!” Lance pushed to the bowl, reaching for the scoop and a plastic cup as he spoke. “You need help, just ask me. Hey, I’ll even start your training tonight!”

“ _What_?” the dark-haired boy looked completely skeptical as Lance passed him the first cup and reached for another. “I don’t need—”

“Oh, let him think he’s useful for once,” Pidge’s tone broke through and she clapped Keith on the shoulder. “Think of it as a bonding moment, or something. And try not to fight—we’ve got company. A _lot_ of company.”

She winked at Lance and he nearly choked, taking a quick drink of his partially filled cup of nunvill to cover it. He finished filling it as he tried to find something clever to say and ended up arguing pitifully, “I’m _always_ useful!”

“Keep telling yourself that,” she brandished a hand as she weaved through people. “In a few seconds, I finally won’t be able to hear your whining over the _music_!”

“Don’t listen to her, buddy,” a hand fell on Lance’s shoulder, and he turned to find the Headless Hunkman—he tried not to snicker at the unspoken nickname—standing there. His voice was still muffled, but Lance could hear the grin. “You’re at least entertaining, man. And you managed to convince Allura to talk to Coran about this party, so at least you did _that_ right. Now you two just skedaddle and have a few drinks and lose your inhibitions or whatever it is you kids do at parties!”

He made a shooing motion at Keith and Lance, and the latter squawked. “ _Hunk!_ You were supposed to be my _wingman_ tonight!”

“I _am_ ,” he responded, the words almost lost in the sudden swell of music. And then Hunk shoved two muffins into Lance’s hands, as well as a bottle that was _definitely_ filled with nunvill, and winked.

Lance’s protests fell on deaf ears, and Keith just looked adorable confused when Lance turned around to face him.

He shoved a muffin at him and snagged his torn sleeve, wordlessly pulling him back towards the living room without answering Keith’s shouted inquiries about _what just happened_ and _where are you taking me_ and even the awkward _thanks for the muffin?_ that was added almost as an afterthought.

Leave it to Hunk and Pidge to betray his trust like that.

His crush on Keith was a secret they were supposed to take to their _graves_.

* * *

 

 As they walked, he tried not to let himself believe that the tips of Lance’s ears were red—or if they were, he told himself, it was because it was getting warm in the house, and also because Lance was in layers. It’s what he got for dressing as Gandalf for a house party that was going to have booze and dancing, after all. And even on the off-chance that Lance _was_ blushing, it definitely didn’t have anything to do with _Keith_ , so he fought off the sinking feeling and forged onward.

When Lance had dragged him back to the living room after a conversation with Hunk that Keith couldn’t follow, he had resigned himself to his fate. He was going to be stuck with Lance while the idiot tried to teach him how to socialize.

It probably meant that he had to sit through Lance flirting with other people, and that was going to be a fresh kind of Hell that he was never ready to embrace.

Watching Lance flirt with other people always made Keith so irrationally _angry_.

In fact, it was a lot like he’d felt when he saw the way Nyma was sneering at Lance. He’d been kind of furious, because how _dare_ anyone aside from their housemates—and Pidge’s brother Matt—treat Lance that way? She didn’t have the right to act like she was better than him. Lance might think with his libido more often than he should, but at least he wasn’t a cold, calculating _bitch_ like she’d been last year when she’d taken his notes and nearly ruined both him _and_ Hunk.

Allura might want to preach forgiveness, but so help him, if Nyma came any closer to Lance tonight, he was probably going to do something he’d regret.

And with that thought, Keith groaned, ignoring the look Lance shot him over his shoulder, and downed the rest of his first cup of nunvill. The liquid courage pooled in his stomach, but it didn’t change anything.

 _Yet_.

When Lance whooped for probably the sixth time as the _Ghostbusters_ theme came on, again, Keith finally felt the effects of his alcohol.

“C’mon, c’mon!” Lance laughed, fingers tugging insistently at Keith’s sleeve. “I’ve resisted all _night_ so now you’ve gotta let me do it. Wait, no, you’ve gotta _join_! C’mon! Dance with me, Frankenmullet!”

Keith swiped at the nearly empty bottle that Lance held in his hand, taking a swig of it before allowing the other to pull him out to the center of the den, dancing like an idiot the entire way before snatching the bottle back and downing the last drink. Keith protested weakly, “Hey!”

“We’ll get more after the song,” Lance waved him off, grinning and leaving the bottle on the coffee table by the couch. “Dance with me!”

Lance’s slender fingers were suddenly intertwined with his and he started to twist, pushing at Keith’s right hand and pulling at his left. At first, the motions were jerky as Keith struggled to fall in with him, and then after a few seconds he finally caught on and started to enjoy it. Lance beamed a large, goofy grin that made Keith’s stomach do flips, and he figured he was in a little too deep to deny it now.

The one time he’d confided in Shiro about how weird and angry he got when Lance flirted with others, the older man had gently suggested that Keith was _jealous_ , and now he was finally able to acknowledge the truth of that statement.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the way Lance’s hands were soft against his own callused palms, or the pink dust interspersed with the freckles on the Cuban boy’s cheeks, or even the twinkling blue eyes that reminded him of sunny days on the beach. Maybe it was the wide smile, or the way that Lance only had eyes for him in the moment, or the way that the lanky boy always seemed to know when Keith felt like he was invisible and made an effort to include him. Maybe it was everything that Keith had ever thought about Lance coming together at once, all the embarrassing moments he had caught himself staring and reacted with aggression.

Or maybe it was just _Lance_.

Whatever it was, he felt it in his very core, thrumming with warmth, pulsing with the beat of the music. And when Lance’s finger’s shifted, pulling him back to the kitchen for more nunvill, Keith didn’t even protest, even as Lance winked at him, laughing, and ignored the way that _Nyma_ tried to intercept them.

 _Take that, bitch_ , Keith found himself thinking, casting a smirk at her behind Lance’s back.

* * *

 

When Keith tossed his head back and laughed at Lance’s line—”I’d offer you the stars, but I think I found them in your eyes”—it took everything he had to stay on his feet. The pale column of Keith’s throat had _always_ sent a shiver through him, but now, under the influence of more nunvill than he had bothered to keep track of, it made his knees start to buckle.

“C-c’mon, Lance!” Keith laughed, his face blossoming red. Lance couldn’t tell whether it was the alcohol or his line, but he decided to hope. “Who’d you use that one on? Did it _work_?”

“You,” he breathed before he could reign himself in, and Keith laughed again before his eyes widened when he realized that Lance wasn’t laughing. His chest was tight as he watched the expressions flit across Keith’s glazed eyes, and he bit his lip. And then, with a half-grin, Lance asked, hoarsely, “Did it work?”

Keith’s fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled, and Lance felt his stomach twist. Keith was taking him out of the kitchen, where they’d just refilled their bottle of nunvill, and he wasn’t sure where they were going.

 _I fucked up_ , he thought. _I really fucked up. I should never be around Keith when I’m drinking, dios mio, what have I done?_

The chill air hit him like a train as Keith pushed through the back door, onto the dimly lit patio.

“H-hey, Keith—” Lance started, but came up short when Keith shoved him back. He probably deserved it, but he—

— _was being kissed_.

It took a few moments for Lance’s brain to catch up with this sudden turn of events, but when it did, he realized that Keith had pulled back, uncertain, thick lashes framing eyes that seemed to glow violet in the night, and he found a grin forming.

“It worked,” he murmured, leaning forward and pulling his wrist from Keith’s to place his hands lightly on his hips. “Didn’t it?” Lance’s lips brushed against Keith’s nose, and he shivered.

“Yes,” Keith muttered back, averting his gaze. Heat was practically rolling off of him, and Lance let a small chuckle escape.

“I can’t believe it,” he admitted, softly, before leaning forward to press their lips together again, much less chastely than Keith had done. After just a few moments, though, Keith pushed back against his chest.

“Mmmph, no, I can’t do it,” he said, and Lance nearly fainted.

Was it all just a game? Was Keith really willing to go so far just to get back at Lance for some bullshit he’d probably done in the past? Was he—

“— _Lance_!”

“Huh?!” he tuned in to listen to whatever Keith was saying, and realized that his hands were tugging at Lance’s face beard.

“Take this _off_ , I said,” Keith nearly growled. “I can’t kiss you if you have a beard the size of a small dog, _quiznak_.”

Warmth bubbled up, and Lance found himself laughing, reaching up to undo the ties on the beard as quickly as he could. “Sure thing, sure thing. But as soon as I get rid of it, you _will_ kiss me, right?”

He grinned, heart pounding, and Keith groaned, reaching up to tug the loosened accessory from Lance’s face.

“Just kiss me, dammit.”

Lance was more than happy to oblige, grinning as he tugged Keith closer.

**Author's Note:**

> THE INSPIRATION:
> 
> My chat group was doing Halloween inspired names, and so the inspiration for this fic was this list:
> 
> Necrolancer (Lance, the Necromancer)  
> Frankenmullet (he was like, Frankenstein's monster? Sort of?)  
> Headless Hunkman (We're nerds okay)  
> Pidgergeist (she was a ghost, see?)  
> Shir-o-lantern (shhhhhhh don't judge)  
> Candy Coran (...okay, you can judge.)


End file.
